This album consists of every last note that we ever wrote as a band.
As a more general concept, the album acts as a discography that captures a brief period spent during our lives when we got together. We were notorious among each other for being slow-paced to do anything, so it shouldn't come as a surprise that we managed six songs during three years (at one point we had as many as 12 and scrapped every last one).
Question our dedication to getting serious about writing new material or playing shows consistently, but I will never let anyone question the emotional sincerity and hard work with which the songs that are on this album were created.
Lastly, a note about the lyrics and the albums more specific concepts.
There is a central character to the story of the album. There is no specific story I will tell of his/hers so that your are free to create one and make connections when you listen, but the themes are, not limited to: circles, evolving to being godlike, power & it's limiting scope, complacency, straightforwardness, unneeded complexity, industrialization, metaphysical death, laziness, understanding every last thing ends, adults as gods & children as art, flaws, flaws, flaws, fruitlessness in labor, being trapped under the weight of history, and physical death. Not necessarily in that order.
I hope you find something in what we made.
released July 30, 2012
This album was recorded during the first half of 2012.
On this recording Solomon Solomon was:
Josh Burton - Bass
John Crogan - Drums
Josh Niezgoda - Guitar
Ted Gordon - Guitar, Vocals, Glockenspiel
All lyrics by Ted Gordon except "Philia" by Ted Gordon & Josh Niezgoda
Brendan Stephens - Guitar on "The nerve of the nerve of the nerve"
Matt Wojcik - Vocals on "Philia"
Recorded & Mixed by:
Brendan Stephens & Matt Wojcik
In a live setting Solomon Solomon was:
Josh Burton - Bass
John Crogan - Drums
Josh Niezgoda - Guitar, Vocals
Ted Gordon - Guitar, Vocals
There are two ex-members of Solomon Solomon in its early days who need mentioning, they are:
Brian Russo - Guitar, Vocals
Brandon Clark - Vocals
There are too many people to thank, so you'll get our hugs and thank you's in person at the last show.
If you booked us a show, drove us around, let us sleep on your floor, did a split with us, lent us an instrument, listened to our music, told us you actually enjoyed it...suffice to say you are the people who deserve those thanks.
Make me the maker and I would cut you and shape you in a factory line.
To control perspective is to limit in a factory line.
Living on land, I forget sea and sky.
Living on land, I forget the rest.
Track Name: Through the gaze of looking in
What is seen when we see a pinpoint light at tunnels end? We’re all standing in a row, staring at it and I hear…
Next is a thud and we all shake and I try to project my pinned body through the pinpricks in cloth. The sounds of mortar being scraped behind me, I bend back.
They’re working light-years above us.
I want to drop to my knees. I want to remember the sounds behind the wall.
Somewhere there in a field, our keys are hanging like feet, drying on a line from the clean after locking all the homes and the offices. I’m waiting for the bricks to fall about us all like raindrops, for my body to thin itself out and find it’s way through the eye of a needle.
Fingers first. Cement last.
Track Name: The nerve of the nerve of the nerve
"It's very hard and it's very complicated!"
Laughter when I shudder the hardest. I don't need a sign, I'm simply not moving.
Put one in front, pull the other ahead as another sun sets on a two-word page.
Spoken like plastic dissolves.
Beauty is smoke in this world, gone as the words I have to torture until reality falls out, until I pry at the casing.
If the problem gets solved...if the problem gets solved. I'll choke on your puzzles to get to the answers.
Track Name: Philia
Men of the same tree shiver in their clothes, under the flags of their own cracked roads.
Severing nerves and roots for tubes and wires.
Even the earths breath needs a respirator some day.
Ask the buildings, their smoke filters to recognized shapes, a response to worry: "This is the state, unscathed."
(The meaning of connection is redefined. Love is best expressed as a waste of hours traded in at a bank.)
Fire used to sleep to incinerate the dark.
Greed left smoke in the twilight.
Instinct left waste to the rivers.
(Virginia, there is a Satan, severing nerves and roots for tubes and wires.)
Send me the seraph, walking the tight line to wipe the blood staining our heels.
Take my hand, prepare for the end of the thread.
Convey the secrets of our dreams, hand in hand, vessel of eternal home is in our palms.
It is reality, grand on a scale to never topple.
You'll fall beneath the weight, I'll be underneath past generations.
Track Name: To do term in a constant mentality
A lifespan is not a lament and you can’t point to anything without a lifespan.
Exodus to Genesis, what else needed to be written?
All the names, bodies passed on by the hands of ghosts to an il-luminescent chain.
This too passes. Not without passion. Not without a call to coding survival.